Avatar Korra is a frustrating character, which is part of what makes The Legend of Korra a frustrating show. The show’s original release sounded like a godsend: brand new adventures set in the same world as Nickelodeon’s superb mid-2000s fantasy series Avatar: The Last Airbender?—count me in! Yet the story of the next Avatar has largely failed to live up to Airbender’s legacy. That’s not to say it’s a bad show; the first season successfully expanded on the original series’ themes of moral complexity, and the central conflict over equality between benders and non-benders made Korra far more than just an empty dose of nostalgia. But the fault lies with the characters: whereas Aang, Katara, and Sokka were a pleasure to hang out with in Airbender, Korra and her friends, despite being slightly older, are somehow less relatable. These teenaged leads range from boring to angsty to annoying to stubborn. Frankly, they can be kind of a drag to watch.
I, along with almost every other college student out there, grew up in the generation of Harry Potter-mania, reading every book and eagerly hitting the theaters every summer to see the onslaught of Potter movies. Now as a college senior facing a life filled with overpriced rents and underpaid jobs, rediscovering my obsession with fantasy novels geared towards thirteen-year-olds has been quite the relief. And after binge reading the Hunger Games trilogy last week, I was skeptical to see how the movie adaptation of Catching Fire could possibly stand up to the scope of the novels. But director Francis Lawrence delivers, satisfying not just the 13-year-old book lover in me but also the cinephile. The latest installment of The Hunger Games creates a mature franchise for a post-Potter generation.
When a new franchise movie comes out, I almost always dress up to go see it, but for some reason this didn’t hold true for The Hunger Games: Catching Fire. When the first movie came out last spring, my way-too-excited group of friends and I donned our leather jackets and “fiery” clothing and did our hair in our best imitation of Katniss’s signature braid. Despite the common consensus from early critics that the sequel was better than its predecessor, I guess I just wasn’t looking forward to it as much. Having already been introduced to most of the cast and knowing the feel of the script, edited and approved by author Suzanne Collins, I felt like there was less to anticipate. Looking back, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Though you’d never guess from the title, the most dynamic character in Jules and Jim is not Jules or Jim, but Catherine. Played by a passionate Jeanne Moreau, it is she who makes François Truffaut’s 1962 film—based on Henri Pierre-Roché’s 1953 novel of the same name (which Truffaut purchased on a whim from a street-side Paris book vendor)—great. Catherine is a charming and flirtatious woman who flouts social norms and bewitches the titular characters (Oskar Werner’s ruddy Jules and Henri Serre’s severe Jim) in her quest for lasting happiness. Characterized by jump cuts and sudden transitions, Catherine’s story manages to be one of the most compelling things about a film memorable for its lovable if not entirely sympathetic characters, its ironic, fast-paced, and humorous style, and its powerful, understated symbolism. Overall, I was floored.
We celebrate the fifteenth anniversary (November 23, 2013) of Disney-Pixar’s A Bug’s Life: has it stood the test of time?
On the face of it, it seems nearly impossible to humanize insects. But those creepy crawlies that barely get our attention, save for a scream or a swat, elicit onscreen not only many a chuckle but also a great deal of emotional investment from the viewer of A Bug’s Life. This in itself is perhaps the greatest achievement of Disney and Pixar’s 1998 film chronicling the life and times of an ant colony that faces an existential crisis when a band of roving grasshoppers seeks to exact tribute from their small store of food. Moviegoers were hooked by the professional animation and visual impact of the new Pixar animation. But though the fifth highest grossing Thanksgiving movie ever, fifteen years later A Bug’s Life has failed to acquire the iconic status we bestow upon many other animated films, like The Lion King (1994), Toy Story (1995), or Finding Nemo (2003). Could the biggest reason for the film’s disappearance into cultural limbo be that A Bug’s Life was always as much covert political allegory as light children’s entertainment?
I gave my ticket to the movie theater employee expecting him to quickly rip off the stub and send me on my way to the theater showing Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s screenwriting and directorial debut, Don Jon. But the ticket collector didn’t let me through. He instead asked, “ID?” It took me a second to realize he doubted I was 17. A senior at Princeton University, I was offended I didn’t look mature enough to watch a rated R film.
Imagine you had the chance to meet your idol. Would you do it? Reality can never live up to the workings of a worshipful imagination, and I for one would be terrified of a personal encounter with any of my heroes. But in a world populated by literal superheroes, how should society function? Do we treat them as celebrities, powerful people who are actually “just like us,” or is it better to keep these oddities – caped crusaders and monsters alike – a secret from the world?
“It’s simple now. Just like we used to read about. You’re the bad guy. And I’m the hero,” yells Michael Peterson (J. August Richards)—the latest “superhero” that S.H.I.E.L.D identifies—before he bashes in his innocent foreman’s head with a gas tank. Marvel’s Agents ofS.H.I.E.L.D, whichdebuted on ABC on Tuesday, September 24th, 2013 to over twelve million viewers, is not as clear-cut as good and evil.
Dexter’s series finale may be titled Remember the Monsters, but it is hard to scavenge anything resembling the good ol’ days in the hollow carcass that Showtime’s fixture has become. And while we’re being honest with each other, I was so thoroughly disturbed by Dexter’s ending that I felt the need to draw its last shot (see above)—and only when I had finished did I realize the problem.
When you, in your freshman year English class, read Holden Caulfield for the first time and came to class the next day and begged your teacher to tell you more about this Salinger dude because he seriously blew your mind, she smiled and said certain words: “recluse,” “private,” “camera-shy,” “hermit,” “genius.” Then you did some Googling and you saw these words over and over again in reviews and interviews. A story formed in your head. When you re-read Catcher in the Rye or read for the first time Salinger’s other stories—which you loved even more than Catcher, and from which you memorized passages you would have tattooed on yourself had your parents let you—you were enamored, consciously or subconsciously, with an image of this man in a snow-covered cabin in the New Hampshire mountains.
I’m offended by the title Kick-Ass 2. No, I’m not offended because I’m unsettled by profanity or by its inherent blandness. I’m offended because this movie was a sequel to the 2010 Kick-Ass in name only. The sequel completely departs from what made the original Kick-Ass so exciting. Nobly trying to reinvent itself into a more psychological and philosophical superhero movie, in the end it simply alienates the audience that was so loyal to the original.
Man of Steel is not a Superman movie. The Clark Kent on the screen might seem familiar: he leaves his home planet for Kansas as an infant, he knows how to fly, and he wears the classic cape and tights. Played by the preternaturally handsome Henry Cavill, he certainly looks the part. But this is not the hero you may know and love: this Clark Kent steals, doubts, and lets civilians die. The name “Superman” is bandied about once or twice, but it’s more of an obligatory homage than an unreserved embrace. Man of Steel borrows freely from the preexisting mythos, but it blazes its own path to create a surprisingly thoughtful big budget sci-fi flick.
